A deadly collision at sea and a failed marriage brought former navy lieutenant Ron Williams to the Gulf of Mexico island town of Port Royal. Reduced to running a small commuter ferry; the Dolphin’s Run, as he tries to put his shattered life back together; he meets and falls for Shelley Baldwin; an island waitress trapped in an abusive marriage. Dolphin’s Run chronicles life, love, friendships and the challenges of living on a small resort island. In a town where everyone literally knows everyone’s business; Ron and Shelley soon realize that they are kindred souls; their passion growing each day. Desperate to be as one, they must first endure their secretive love relationship and once together, overcome the challenges of her psychotic revenge-bent ex-husband, tragic losses within Shelley’s family and yet another disaster at sea for Ron that she fears he may not have survived.
Ron’s anchors of sanity as he tries to rebuild his life are his closest friend, the womanizing young first officer Bob Lawton; the boat line’s senior captain, Leon Ames; and the bombastic line owner, Walt Garrison who gives him a chance at recovery.
Shelley’s own anchors are her father, John; her best friend and co-worker Jan Harris and Jan’s policeman husband Marc. Along with the refined Caribbean bartender and entrepreneur, Cammie Jackson, night manager of The Reef restaurant where Shelley and Jan work; only her close circle of friends know the true dread and abuse that she faces at home each day.
Garrison and Ames decide that Ron’s personal and professional recovery progress fits in with Gulf Coast Cruise Line expansion plans; he finds himself promoted, and with Bob Lawton as his first officer; to captain the line’s new Port Royal-based service.
In Port Royal, Lawton and Ron become regulars at The Reef; where Ron becomes enchanted with Shelley Baldwin. Quickly drawn into Shelley’s inner circle, her friends mount a concerted effort to free her from a dangerous marriage and insure that she and Ron become one. Reluctant at first, Shelley becomes enamored with Ron as well; falling under the spell of his gentle, caring aura. Filling the void in each other’s lives, they begin the difficult journey to be together.
That road is fraught with dangers for Shelley including disastrous personal losses, her drunken, violent husband and a crazed sexual predator; while Ron must deal with terrifying ghosts from his own past, drug runners at sea and a final confrontation with his own personal demons.
Together, they strive to find a new and better life.
To quote a famous song: They get by with a little from their friends...
Rich “Sunny” Callen is intimately familiar with life in the goldfish bowl of small, island resort towns. As a public safety professional Rich policed their narrow streets, beautiful beaches, coastlines and wild interiors; patrolled the skies above them and explored the depths below them. Drawing on those years, Rich crafts a story of two people whom fate casts together on a little island resort town in the Gulf of Mexico as they struggle to rebuild shattered lives. Rich is the author of Become a 9-1-1 Dispatcher – Your Personal Career Guide; the definitive work for those seeking to enter that exciting profession; he’s published two comedy dinner plays Red Murder at Antonio’s and the sequel Trouble at Tremont that community theater groups perform in their local restaurant venues; and a screenplay based on his science fiction novella The Fifth Moon.
Rich Callen has been a deputy with the world’s largest sheriff’s department and worked as a patrol officer, field training officer, academy training officer and as a department air support unit patrol and rescue pilot. He served for many years as the public safety captain for a US coastal island resort community and was one of the first recruited into the newly-formed post-911 federal air security agency, serving as an operations supervisor, training supervisor and an aviation operations security manager.
Rich currently teaches anti-terrorism courses to public transit agencies in the southwest; is part owner of a security consulting company specializing in executive protection and homeland security matters. He enjoys writing; playing and singing traditional country and bluegrass music; is an accomplished silk flower design artist and lives in Las Vegas, Nevada.
The target moved at sixteen knots over placid, northeastern, Gulf of Mex ico waters. In cool depths fathoms below, shadows darted upward and toward the warm surface. Homing in on the steady drum of the passenger ferry’s twin propellers, it was time to play. Calm seas around the one hundred and thirty-foot ship erupted with dolphin. Converging alongside and staying just under the surface like gray torpedoes, they crisscrossed the ship’s bow two, then four at a time.
Diving en masse, the pod disappeared from view, only to surface again twenty yards ahead of the ship and take up a new course. All but two. The remaining dolphins broke from the mass and as though they had rehearsed for the part, split up. One sped through the water along the ferry’s right, or starboard side, while the other raced to the left, or port side. They dove under her and surfaced in the roiling wake astern. The ship’s bow rose slightly as many of the two hundred and seventy-four island-bound passengers rushed aft for a better look. In the wheelhouse, a uniformed ship’s officer reached for a public address microphone. His pleasant voice radiated from speakers throughout the vessel.
“Look at this,” he said. “We’ve got some company on our voyage to Salina Cay Island and the town of Port Royal this Thursday afternoon. Not surprising. This is a good time of year to view the species and we saw a couple of pods on our first trip this morning.” His voice went on to describe the performers as air-breathing mammals and not true “fish,” along with an educated guess as to where they might next appear. As a part ing flourish, the two remaining dolphin circled the ship as though she was dead in the water. Quickly as they appeared, they were gone; leaping high in pursuit of the gang still visible to the south. The motor vessel, Dolphin’s Run, had lived up to her name.
“I never get tired of watching those beautiful animals perform,” the narrator said, flicking off and hanging up the PA mike. The name tag on his shirt identified him in gold letters over a blue background as “Ronald A. Williams, Gulf Coast Carriers.” Three gold stripes on the shoulders of his crisp white uniform shirt identified him as the ship’s first officer. On a bench seat at the wheelhouse rear, a second uniform-clad man rose and stretched.
“And, it gives our paying guests below something extra for their twelve and half bucks,” the other man said. Leon Ames, fifty-six, was the ferry line’s senior captain. “Make a note of that sighting in the log,” he went on, “so the front office knows we’re trying to scientifically broaden the passengers’ minds.” Ambling toward the wheelhouse door, he yawned at Williams. “I’m going to head below and filch another newspaper from the snack bar. The deckhands got to my crossword puzzle. Again. Do you want anything?”
“No thanks, Lee,” Williams responded. “I drank about half of Phil Darrow’s lemonade as we boarded this load back in Fort Reyerson.”
“You’re probably contaminated,” Ames said, opening the door. “Ticket office bosses are known to be rabid.”
Stepping out into the warm, moist gulf breeze, he glanced back at Williams. “And,” he added, “don’t run into anything while I’m gone.” He scanned the first officer’s face, waiting for a reaction to the statement. There was none. Williams gripped the polished mahogany steering wheel lightly with one hand and stared impassively at the ocean ahead. Satisfied, Ames slowly and leisurely made his way below.
Leon Ames didn’t need the four gold stripes on his shoulders for identification. His tall, lean frame; years on the bridge etched into the weathered lines of his face and the sharp edge of authority still much alive in his seasoned, yet clear eyes said CAPTAIN. Most of the time, he chose to wear a comfortable and fraying blue windbreaker over his uniform shirt, hiding the gold stripes, yet there was never a doubt who was in command. Ames had been with Gulf Coast Carriers for twenty-eight years, the last twelve as senior captain. The company operated a year-round fleet of six passenger ferries from Fort Reyerson, mid-way between Mobile and Pen sacola on the Gulf Coast, to the three Cay Islands located just off the Florida/Alabama border along with charter trips to Mobile and Pensacola, with more than the occasional party boat charters and whale watch cruises into local coastal waters. Popular tourist destinations, the three Cay Islands lay within easy reach of mainland crowds seeking a day or a week of recre ation in the year-round, mild, sub-tropical weather. Salina Cay, largest of the group, boasted the town of Port Royal, one and one-half mile square, complete with resort hotels and facilities to suit all tastes and budgets. The nearby smaller islands of Susquin and Parker Cays provided various hunt ing and fishing camps, youth organization camps, along with sheltered anchorages for gulf coast boaters.
This day, Ames and crew were in fact bound for the island town of Port Royal. A spring warming trend had been generating fair mid-week passenger counts; a sure barometer of the busy season to come.
© 2009 Richard Callen. All Rights Reserved.
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